t. "Are we going to remain here
until doomsday?" he asked. "Are we to pause just at the moment when our
search has been productive of such brilliant results?"

"Brilliant results!" These words stung the young man as deeply as the
keenest irony could have done. "Leave me alone," he replied gruffly;
"and, above all, don't walk about the garden, as by doing so, you'll
damage any footprints."

His companion swore a little; but soon became silent in his turn. He was
constrained to submit to the irresistible ascendency of superior will
and intelligence.

Lecoq was engaged in following out his course of reasoning. "The
murderer, leaving the ball at the Rainbow, a dancing-house not far from
here, near the fortifications, came to this wine-shop, accompanied by
two women. He found three men drinking here, who either began teasing
him, or who displayed too much gallantry toward his companions. He
became angry. The others threatened him; he was one against three; he
was armed; he became wild with rage, and fired--"

He checked himself, and an instant after added, aloud: "But was it the
murderer who brought these women here? If he is tried, this will be the
important point. It is necessary to obtain information regarding it."

He immediately went back into the house, closely followed by his
colleague, and began an examination of the footprints round about the
door that Gevrol had forced open. Labor lost. There was but little snow
on the ground near the entrance of the hovel, and so many persons
had passed in and out that Lecoq could discover nothing. What a
disappointment after his patient hopes! Lecoq could have cried
with rage. He saw the opportunity for which he had sighed so long
indefinitely postponed. He fancied he could hear Gevrol's coarse
sarcasms. "Enough of this," he murmured, under his breath. "The General
was right, and I am a fool!"

He was so positively convinced that one could do no more than discover
the circumstances of some commonplace, vulgar broil, that he began to
wonder if it would not be wise to renounce his search and take a nap,
while awaiting the coming of the commissary of police.

But Father Absinthe was no longer of this opinion. This worthy man, who
was far from suspecting the nature of his companion's reflections could
not explain his inaction. "Come! my boy," said he, "have you lost your
wits? This is losing time, it seems to me. The authorities will arrive
in a few hours, and what report sha